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September 11, 2009

Wow, what a difference 8 weeks make. Perhaps some of you recall my heart breaking in two as my little four-year old, Lukas, cried his way through summer preschool in July. Did I say cried? Perhaps I should amend that. Screamed. Stomped his foot. Whined. or D–all of the above. It actually got to the point where one of the little boys covered his ears and told him in no uncertain terms “Lukas! Stop screaming–you are hurting my ears!” Like that.

Now, he was crying not because he was scared, or tired, or even that uncomfortable there–he just wanted his mama. (Collective “aw” is appropriate here.) Lukas just loves me–I am his world. And of course, the feeling is mutual. My little man is so sweet–he tells me he loves me at least every 10 minutes, that I’m , let’s see–beautiful, adorable, romantic, that he “just loves my green eyes” (which I have to say, I’ve heard from a few men in my time), and that he wants to marry me. All good for this 45-year old mom’s ego, even if it does come from my own little guy.

He did end the last 3 days of summer preschool on a high-note however; his teacher was amazed at his verbal gymnastics, his knowledge of caterpillars into butterflies (it’s a BIG WORD you know: met-a-morphasis–and that’s a quote, I swear to God) and they realized he’s not only funny but whipsmart. This all helped to place him in the right class for fall.

(Side note: he just asked if he could have a New York: Lukas speak for a York Peppermint Patty. Too funny. Also, as we were getting ready for orientation and I told him to sit still so I could gel his hair so he’d look cool, he said no, mama, not cool–awesome, like a rock star!)

So we meet his teacher and she’s great! He walked in and shook her hand, checked out all the cool learning stuff, played with the kids, and he declared it all “cool.” Says he’s not worried about AN-Y-THING. Chill-ax mama, he says, would ya?

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